Got up from staring blankly at my computer screen and all the work I have to do, walked out to my car and sat there screaming bloody fucking murder cursing this shit.

I'm a 21 year old college student, been suffering from depression since I was 14 or so. My first year at college my Godfather passed and I got pretty heavily involved with drugs, not to mention I got drunk 6 days a week. I ended up dropping out, went home started working, the drugs didn't stop and I'd stopped taking my meds because they made feel like a zombie anyway, emotionless. I got busted and received six months probation.

That fall I enrolled at a new university to do what I truly love, working in the automotive industry. I still refused to take meds and wallowed through the first semester, and received excellent grades. By the second semester I'd made some excellent new friends who I love to death, but of course half of them were dealers. So I picked up the habit again, the works: weed, alcohol, acid, coke, shrooms, molly. This entire time I'd been smoking about a 1/2 pack of cigarettes a day. Physically I wasn't quite in my worst condition, that was freshman year, but it still wasn't good. Mentally I continued to be a husk of a man, and grew worse each day. Still though I received great grades save for a single class I failed.

The following summer I developed a better relationship with my family than I'd had in years and cut way back on the drugs and alcohol. Nothing but a little pot a couple times a week and was making progress with the booze, not to mention I quit cigarettes cold turkey at the end of the semester and took a summer course to make up the credit for the one I failed. All this time however I'm only getting worse, despite all outward appearances.

Now comes last semester. I moved into a new apartment with some good dudes, and I hit the throttle on drugs and alcohol again. I wasn't worried though, I'd learned a good deal of restraint and limited it to beer and weed (with the occasional tab). This entire time still in-medicated, and I had my best semester to date. I even received an award and recognition from the department for academic excellence, my picture is hanging up in the fucking entrance to my department right now. Still though, every morning I rose my first thought was about blowing my goddamn brains out.

Now we're in the current Spring semester and I'm ahead of a good deal of my peers academically. Started the meat and potatoes of my program earlier than all but one person from my incoming class. At the beginning of the semester I quit smoking pot for professional reasons and only drank on the weekends. That's when I fucking broke. Everything I'd been internalizing and hiding from everyone came crashing through the levy. I'd reached my lowest point in years. I set up an appointment with the university counseling and met with my doctor to get back on medication. The psychologist turned out to be a fucking hack and I quit going after a few meetings, yet remained on my meds. Its been months and I've only gotten worse.

Every morning is a fucking war to even get out of bed and collect the puddle of a human being I've become. I'm not particularly religious but most every morning I reach for my bible and read Jeremiah 29:11 (My mother's favorite verse) to try and motivate myself, but getting me up and shambling is about all its good for. On paper I'm doing the best I ever have, but everyday I grow more hopeless. I've lost touch with human interaction, nothing anyone says makes any goddamn sense to me. I've lost interest in everything I even did just to pass the time, sitting scrolling through my phone and sleeping when it's even a faint possibility is all I do anymore. Bouts of rage and violence and general confrontation are becoming increasingly normal. I'm trying to do everything in my godforsaken power to fix myself but it just feels so goddamn useless, I can't escape yearning to sleep and not wake up, to let everything around me fade into oblivion.

So I'm sitting here in the Uni library staring blankly at my computer screen and all the work I have before me and I just couldn't fucking take it anymore. I got up, collected my things, and walked back to my car, just shuffling and staring through people all the way there. I sat down in my car and just started screaming and cursing this illness, myself, god, the universe, just every god damn thing in my life. Just started shouting fuck you at the top of my lungs over and over and over. Basically just told existence to go fuck itself until I couldn't yell anymore. That's when the strangest feeling washed over me, just a general sense of relief and dare I say a hint determination based out of a "FUCK YOU" attitude. I'm sitting back here in the library, and this is the most motivated I have felt in months. Overall I'm still the worst I've ever been, but I haven't had this sort sense of confidence or "I can do this" in fuck knows when.

If you made it through this this fucking literary catharsis I applaud you, and maybe just this simple raging at existence can pull some of the weight off of your shoulders too, even if just for a moment. It feels good to just release all this anger and pain even if no one is listening or receiving the brunt. Just fucking scream about everything until your hoarse. Thanks for listening.

"For I know the plans I have for you, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future"